Dangerous Pyramid Dismantled by a Concerned White Tail

The artifact arrived in a standard cardboard transport vessel. My human, whom I shall refer to as The Keeper, extracted it with an unseemly amount of glee. It was a compact, translucent case containing twelve multi-colored, poly-faceted objects. The Keeper would sit for long periods, staring at a small book of glyphs, then meticulously arrange the objects within a recessed grid. I observed from my command post atop the sofa, documenting this strange ritual. The objects themselves were inert, scentless, and made a dissatisfying *clack* when moved. Clearly, their power was not of a physical nature. For days, the ritual was confined to two dimensions. The Keeper would solve one glyph-pattern only to immediately scatter the objects and begin anew, a frustrating and cyclical process. I theorized it was a form of meditation or, perhaps, a low-level intelligence test administered by some unseen entity. The "Educational Insights" brand inscribed on the accompanying literature suggested a pedagogical purpose, but for what? To what end were they being educated? My concern grew when I saw The Keeper graduate to the third dimension. One evening, the ritual changed. Following a new set of glyphs, The Keeper began to stack the objects. A pyramid began to take shape. My fur bristled. This was it. The final configuration. Was it a transmitter? A beacon to summon the mothership? The final piece, a jagged blue one, was placed on the apex. A moment of silence hung in the room. The Keeper looked at the completed structure, then looked at me, a triumphant glint in their eyes. I could not allow this. The fate of this household, and possibly the world, was at stake. With a fluid leap, I landed silently on the coffee table. I gave The Keeper a long, hard stare, one that communicated my full understanding of their dangerous game. Then, with a deliberate sweep of my pristine white-tipped tail, I sent the pyramid and its component objects scattering across the hardwood floor. The Keeper sighed, but I had made my point. This "Kanoodle" is a dangerously absorbing device, a potential portal to who-knows-where. It is far too powerful for simple humans to wield. My final verdict: it must be dismantled and its pieces hidden, preferably under the refrigerator, for the good of all.